


Hat-Trick

by Blue_Five



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demonic Possession, M/M, Recognition Bond, Suicidal Thoughts, soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Five/pseuds/Blue_Five
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of one-shots dealing with my favorite threesome.  Combined into one fic w/chapters instead of a series - will update whenever the muse strikes.</p><p>Soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bonded

Werewolves. Hunters. Not for the first time, Stiles wondered how this was his life. Not that it was so bad, honestly. Especially when he awoke comfortably sandwiched between two unbelievably handsome guys. Two unbelievably handsome guys that were one hundred percent into him … into Stiles. _That_ was not so bad. Not in the least. Nope. No real complaints.

Ok. _One_ complaint. There was a serious lack of sleep to be dealt with. No sleep made Stiles a little more fidgety than usual. Fidgety Stiles tended to get on his lovers nerves. Still … if they wanted to see how many times they could make him come, it was honestly their own fault if he could barely concentrate the next day.

The relationship … _was_ it a relationship? … was still new. Like, two months new. They were still kicking the tires and test-driving the entire thing. Which meant sex. Lots of freakishly hot sex. Which was something Stiles Stilinski could deal with … something he was more than happy to deal with.

“I swear to all that is holy … if you do not shut off the mind-babble, I will use my taser, Stiles,” came a muffled threat from behind him.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated through Stiles’ body as Derek voiced his opinion on the matter. Dean was not daunted.

“Whatever, tall, dark and growly … don’t tell me it doesn’t drive you straight up the fucking wall too,” Dean muttered.

Stiles might have been offended but Dean’s hand was sliding over his hip and thigh. Stiles wanted that hand to go elsewhere and part of him woke up completely at that thought. He pushed back against Dean who tightened his grip on Stiles’ hip in response.

“Not playin’ fair, kid,” Dean whispered.

Derek opened his eyes and met the hazel gaze watching him over Stiles’ shoulder. He still couldn’t believe it some mornings … a Hunter. And not just _any_ Hunter. _Dean Fucking Winchester_. Mr. Bad-Ass himself was in Derek’s bed … naked and aroused. Derek growled again and enjoyed the twitch of Stiles’ cock against his thigh as well as the involuntary jerk of Dean’s hips into Stiles. The twin groans were reward enough. He grinned.

“Might drive me up the wall but he’s easy to shut up,” Derek teased.

“Right here, Derek,” Stiles complained. “See? Right here …” Stiles indicated his presence by sliding his hand between them and palming Derek’s hardening cock. The werewolf grunted and pulled Stiles to him a little tighter.

Dean chuckled and mouthed the cool skin of Stiles’ shoulder where it had been out of covers. He made a mental note to find a bigger quilt for the bed. Three full-grown men took up enough room in a king-size bed much less trying to share one comforter. And how the hell had he just _thought_ that? He was in a bed with two other men. One of them a fucking werewolf. His life, already fucking strange, was now officially _odd_ to him.

* * *

The job in California was normal sounding enough – find a banshee and kill it. Beacon Hills, California was already a hotbed of supernatural occurrences so it made sense the banshee lived there. Dean and Sam drove in and set up in the usual motel room.

The banshee, however, had turned out to be an attractive, smart, albeit somewhat mouthy redhead named Lydia Martin. Lydia might be able to slay with a look and a few well-placed barbs, but only figuratively. Tracking the actual killer led them to a plain, ordinary, psychopathic human named Adrian Harris. It was a quickly wrapped up matter.

Six hours and Dean would have been gone … back on the road with his little brother headed for the next job. Instead, they let themselves be talked into hanging around to meet the pack alpha, Derek Hale. Sam argued it would be a wise move. Dean suspected his brother wanted to talk shop with the Chris Argent, local Hunter. The bestiary the Argents had compiled was an excellent supplement to John Winchester’s journal so Dean had acquiesced. While Sam and Chris pored over the files, Dean shared a beer with the other members of the pack and they traded tales of the strange and deadly. Young though they were, the pack members had seen almost as much darkness as he and Sam had by their age.

* * *

When Derek Hale returned home with Stiles, Dean’s entire existence flipped on its head. He’d been mid-swallow when the door rolled back on its track, revealing two men of extremes. Derek – broad shouldered, dark and somber. Stiles – leaner, bright and fairly radiating positive energy. Dean never finished his drink. He could only stare, pinned by twin gazes that were as surprised as him. Three heartbeats filled the air … separate at first but gradually they synchronized until they were one. The howling emptiness the Horseman Famine accused him of carrying disappeared … buried by the beautiful sound of the two hearts that were suddenly a part of him. Dean couldn’t imagine any music – _including_ Zepp – that was sweeter than the triple rhythm echoing in his mind branding him as theirs.

Derek smiled at the memories sliding through Dean’s mind. He remembered that first meeting. He’d inhaled deeply and his senses flared with the scents of himself and two others. The air before a storm – Dean. The earth warmed by the sun – Stiles. His own cinnamon and leather smell. Three scents twining in and around each other to create one unique blend. Derek felt the soul-crushing loneliness he’d known since the fire … dissipate. His triskelion tattoo seemed to burn into his skin and suddenly he knew who he was … one of three souls linked forever. Derek couldn’t understand how he’d ever lived without their scents filling him and marking him as theirs.

Stiles basked in the double heat of his lovers and listened absently to their remembered sensations and images of the first meeting. Stiles recalled two voices had filled his mind but it hadn’t been a jumble of disoriented and disconnected thoughts … he’d felt the distinct personalities of each. All three of them were broken in some way … they’d lost loved ones and would do anything to protect the ones that remained. Together, the voices in his head had merged into one sound. Stiles could not imagine going to back to the frenetic cacophony of before … not when this single voice focused, encouraged and strengthened him with every word. How had he not gone mad without it? Without the two he belonged with?

* * *

 Derek had somehow managed to tear his gaze away from Dean to look at Scott, his pack beta. “Scott, take the pack … somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

Scott opened his mouth to question when Peter had laid a single hand on his arm. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“Dean?”

Dean blinked and slowly turned to look at his little brother. Sam looked at him worriedly. He smiled and was stunned to feel how easy it was … no forcing required.

“It’s ok, Sammy … I’ll call you later … but … it’s ok … really ok …” Dean knew he was rambling a little but he didn’t care.

“Dean … you don’t … sound like yourself …” Sam began.

Dean wasn’t listening anymore. He was standing and looking at the only other two people in his universe right now. They were looking back at him. A dim part of his consciousness heard someone talking Sam into leaving with the pack. Finally, the door slid shut and silence fell over the loft. They stared at each other for a minute longer and then all three of them were moving toward one another.

Dean gripped Stiles by the shoulders and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He wanted nothing more than to taste every blessed inch of the young man’s mouth. He felt the pleasure Stiles was feeling flow into his body. Derek was suddenly behind him, strong arms encircling his waist and hot tongue laving over the back of his neck. Stiles’ hands shoved up under his shirt and Dean released Stiles’ lips just long enough to pull off his shirt before he was devouring again. He arched into Stiles as Derek worked his way down Dean’s back, tongue tracing every knob of his spine.

Stiles broke their kiss and his mouth found Dean’s nipple. When Dean gasped, Derek surged up and claimed his mouth, moving around to press Stiles between them. Derek had the younger man’s shirt off in a second and he nipped gently at his earlobe. When Stiles turned within the cage of bodies, he was finally able to open to the wolf he’d been half in love with for years. That joy surged through their link and after that it was a lot of fumbling with belts and shoes and socks.

Dean didn’t remember making it to the bed and he sure as hell didn’t remember how they decided who did what to whom but it didn’t matter. He was Derek and Derek was Stiles and Stiles was Dean and the spiral just continued until none of them knew … or cared … where one ended and the other began.

* * *

Now, two months down the road and they still couldn’t get enough of each other. Apparently, they had managed something not seen between humans and werewolves since antiquity. A soul recognition. “Soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes.” In the space of an instant, they had discovered their perfect ‘otherselves’. They could each sense the presence and mood of one another and they could talk to one another without saying a word.

Dean and Stiles had been all over discovering their ‘superpowers’. Derek just silently endured with a few rolled eyes. Thanks to the new link, however, his lovers knew Derek was amused by their antics and his annoyance was surface only.

Sam wasn’t sure what to make of his brother since the recognition. Dean laughed out loud at something Stiles did one day and startled the hell out of Sam at lunch. The Dean he saw before him now was like nothing he’d ever witnessed. His brother was _happy_. No chick-flick moments … just smiles that never seemed to stop. Scott relayed to Sam that none of the three had nightmares much anymore. Sam began to worry. If the high was this far up … what would the crash be like?


	2. Separated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was Dean Winchester. He’d been to Hell and back quite literally ... with a side-trip to Purgatory. He could do this.

In some dim corner of his mind, Dean Winchester was impressed by the length of time werewolves were apparently able to hold their breaths.  His brain didn’t have enough blood left to ponder things much farther because the rest of his circulatory system was involved in keeping his cock rock hard.  Rock hard and ready to let go any minute because of the attention being lavished upon it by one hot and very fucking talented werewolf mouth.

Dean was currently pinned against the side of the pool bracing himself on the side with outstretched arms.  The sounds he was making echoed in the tiled room but Dean couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed.  Not much, anyway.

 _I can always stop if you’re too busy blushing up there,_ Derek’s voice teased in Dean’s mind.

_Don’t don’t don’t stop … please Derek … please … oh God don’t stop …_

Under the water, Derek smiled around Dean’s shaft and sucked his cheeks hollow while at the same time crooking the fingers he had inside Dean.  They landed perfectly against Dean’s sweet spot and Derek heard the muffled sound of his lover shouting through his release.

Surfacing, Derek pressed Dean against the side of the pool and claimed the elder Winchester in a deep kiss.  He smiled again at the groan that Dean gave out when he tasted himself.  Chlorinated water mingled with the salt that was uniquely Dean.

 _Impressive, fur-face,_ Dean sent while Derek’s tongue teased the underside of his own.

_I do what I can._

Pushing out of the pool, Derek walked over to where they’d abandoned their trunks.  He tossed a towel to Dean.  His hazel-eyed lover dressed quietly.  Derek pursed his lips.  Their morning swim often devolved into something else but another reason had been behind it today.

“Don’t, Dean … we’ll be fine,” Derek offered.  “And it’s not like we live in the dark ages … there are a ton of ways for us to talk until you get back.”

Dean chuckled.  “Yeah and the resident Wonderboys are going to have to walk your ass and mine through how to fucking do any of it.”

 _I heard that_ , Stiles’ voice drifted through Dean and Derek’s minds.

 _Meant you to, lazy-ass,_ Dean said with a faint smile.

Derek grinned.  Stiles had more energy than either himself or Dean put together but getting the younger man out of bed in the morning was a trial.  Stiles’ father, John Stilinski, just smiled at them and wished them luck in the endeavor.

_Growing boy … need sleep, not early morning drowning._

_Never hear you complain when I’m –_

_Shut up ... totally different situation … one I’m completely up for exploring if you two exhibitionists are done?_ Stiles sent.

Derek rolled his eyes as they rode the elevator up to the loft.  _Not really exhibitionism if we’re the only three people in the entire building, Stiles._

Whatever contribution Dean was planning for the conversation was lost when they slid open the door and they spotted Stiles leaning against the wall to one side, very erect cock in one hand.

Stiles later thought he should have known better than to tease a werewolf and a hunter.

* * *

“Sammy, are you going to mope the entire trip or what?” Dean grumbled.

A low grunt was the only response Dean received.  Glancing over, he watched Sam trace the same line on the map a few times.  Irritated, he pulled off the road and shut off the car.  Sam looked up angrily.

“Damn it, Dean, what?”  Sam barked.

“Really, Sammy?  When did _I_ turn into the chick in this relationship?  What the hell is eating you?  You’ve been dragging your sad ass around since Tulsa!” Dean replied.

“I have not …”

“What are you, five?  What the hell, Sammy?”

“Alright, fine … you want to know what’s up?” Sam asked.

Dean gave him a ‘duh’ look and Sam was out of the car, stalking down the side of the highway.  Dean cursed and jumped out to follow.

“Damn it, Sam!”

Sam rounded on his older brother, brows dragged into a severe ‘V’. 

“You don’t talk to me anymore, Dean!  It’s frustrating as hell ... you’re always talking to _them_ ,” Sam complained.

” _Them_?”  Dean growled.

“Yes, Dean … _them_!  Stiles and Derek … I sit in that car all damn day listening to you snicker and grunt and snort because of whatever the hell conversation you’ve got going on in your head.  It’s driving me fucking nuts!” Sam yelled.

Dean blinked, then turned on his heel and went back to the car.  Sam exhaled sharply.  He’d let his anger get the better of him and now he was about to suffer the blowback.

Dean jerked open the driver’s side and got in, gripping the steering wheel tightly.  He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.  He sent to his lovers.

_Guys … I gotta … we gotta let this go for now._

Twin flares of protest went up and Dean winced.

_I know, I know.  Guys, it’s Sammy … fuck knows I’ve given him enough shit over the years … I gotta … I need to do this for him._

_Dean …_ Stiles began.

Derek overrode the younger man.  _Dean, do what you have to … it’s family.  We get that._

Stiles didn’t feel like he completely agreed with that opinion and Dean caressed his lover’s mind.

 _Yeah, I know, kid.  Hard to believe but I haven’t always been so sweet and sensitive_ , Dean sent.

The resultant snort in his head made Dean smile faintly.  He felt a lump forming in his throat. 

 _Don’t start, Winchester,_ Derek sent.  _I don’t want to have to mop the damn floor when Stiles’ waterworks start._

 _Keep it up, sourwolf … you’ll be sleeping on the floor with a chew toy,_ Stiles snapped.

 _So … you, then? _Derek teased.

 _Be good to each other,_ Dean sent quickly.  He could see Sam walking back to the car.  _I have to go … I’ll text when I can but I need to focus on Sammy for right now.  Sorry._

 _Get back in one piece,_ Stiles sent.  The worry the younger man was feeling for Dean was sharp.  The lump in Dean’s throat grew. 

_Always._

The words were never said, but they’d learned to share the feeling of love they had for one another.  It enveloped Dean and then it was quiet.  Dean wiped at his eyes before Sam reached the vehicle.  Dean thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest … he’d been linked to Stiles and Derek mentally for over four months now.  The silence was crushing.

Sam got in and sat quietly for a minute.  “Dean … I’m sorry.  I –“

Dean held up a hand and started the engine.  “It’s ok, Sammy.  I get it.  And I’m not linked up anymore … not for the rest of the trip, ok?”

“Dean, you don’t have to – “

“Yeah, I do, Sammy.  I need to concentrate anyway,” Dean said.  “Can’t screw up a simple salt n’ burn because I’m distracted, right?”

Sam nodded.  The ‘V’ between his eyes did not lessen.

* * *

Dean tossed and turned in the motel bed.  He hugged a pillow tightly to himself.  When the hell had he forgotten how to sleep alone?  Sam snored peacefully nearby and Dean bit his lower lip.  He wasn’t too proud to admit he missed his lovers.  He missed Stiles’ constantly chattering thoughts and Derek’s dark and somber ones.  He wondered if they missed him.  Then he wondered why it was such a big fucking deal.  He could do this … he’d spent most of his life alone in his own head.  No reason he couldn’t continue.  He was Dean Winchester.  He’d been to Hell and back quite literally with a side-trip to Purgatory.  He could do this.  It was one fucking ghost -- then he could go home.  No problemo. 

* * *

Derek looked up when the door to the loft slid open.  He was on his feet and moving a second later.

Sam Winchester stood in the doorway.  Leaning heavily against him was Dean, blood marking his face and looking the worse for wear.  Sam looked little better.  Stiles, who’d been upstairs, came bounding down the steps. 

“What the hell – Dean!” Stiles cried.

Dean winced and pulled back.  “No … no … can’t … don’t …”

Sam groaned.  “Dean, it’s ok … they’re here … it’s ok … you’re home.”

Derek picked Dean up as though he weighed nothing.  He carried his lover to the bed and tried not to feel the tremors wracking his lover’s body.

“What happened?” Stiles asked.

“It was a spirit … vengeful … we finally found what was tying it to the property.  Dean hasn’t slept since he broke the link with you two … he was exhausted and the spirit did a number on him before I could destroy the anchor,” Sam rambled.  “Fuck … I drove straight back.  He wouldn’t let me call you … said he was too messed up to have you in his head.”

“Fuck that, Winchester,” Derek growled at Dean.  “Let us in.”

Dean clenched his eyes shut and curled up on his side.

“No.”

“Come on, tough guy,” Stiles chided gently.  “Let us in … please, Dean.”

Dean shook his head.  “Can’t … forgot … too fucked up … you don’t deserve …”

 _Stow it, Dean,_ Derek sent abruptly.  _You’re not the only headstrong asshole in this relationship … we need you to make this work._

Dean opened his eyes and blinked at Stiles and Derek, his hazel eyes shining.  Amber and green looked back at him full of worry … and love.

_… didn’t need anyone … ever …_

_Yeah?  So what,_ Stiles sent.  _None of us asked for help ever until this bond thing.  Now you don’t have to ask … you just get to accept the help.  Whether you want to or not, Dean._

Dean looked at them helplessly.  Stiles was right – none of them was capable of asking for help before the bond.  Derek’s nature led him to push people away to avoid hurting them because of his previous mistakes.  Dean was forever taking the bullet for others, particularly where Sam was concerned.  Stiles gave all he could to everyone and never mentioned his own pain.

 _Yeah, we’re pretty screwed up, Dean,_ Stiles said.  _Maybe that’s why we fit so well together?_

Derek ran his hand through Dean’s hair.  _We’re not letting you walk away, Winchester._

 _I gotta take care of Sammy, guys … I can’t let anything happen to him,_ Dean thought miserably.

Stiles snorted and looked up at a very worried Sam.  “I dunno, Dean … Sam looks kinda like a grown-up to me.”

Sam sank down to sit at the foot of the bed and rolled his eyes.  “Really, Dean?  Always the “I have to take care of Sam” song.”

Dean pushed himself up and leaned a little on Derek.  “Sammy, Dad …”

“Dean, you are quite possible the best and most fucking annoying older brother in the world.  You’re like the one constant in my universe – if something needs to be sacrificed to keep me alive, keep me from getting hurt, bring me back from the dead … I can fully expect you’ll be the guy to do it.  You piss me off the way you cling to dad's request -- you were _four,_ Dean.  But even at that ... God knows I love you for it too.  You don't even realize you've never let me down, do you?”

“That’s not true, Sammy, and you know it,” Dean protested.

“Dean, you’ve never let me down when it counted … and I mean ‘up against the Apocalypse’ counted,” Sam retorted.  “You’ve got a chance at something here … I was wrong to get upset about it … I just don’t understand it.”

“Me either, Sammy … but I don’t think I can be without it anymore,” Dean admitted. 

“So don’t be,” Derek said softly.  “Dean, don’t you know Stiles and I would do anything to keep Sam safe?  I call it pack, you call it family … and didn’t your Bobby say that family doesn’t end with blood?”

Dean wiped at his eyes.  “Fuck … how many times do I have to say no chick-flick moments?”

“Probably a lot … Stiles is pretty dense,” Derek teased.

“I gotta be … I sleep between a werewolf and a hunter,” Stiles returned.

Stiles moved up and pushed Dean back on the bed before straddling him and kissing him.  Derek slowly drew the pain out of his lover’s body as Stiles mapped every inch of Dean’s mouth.  They all grinned when Dean wrapped his legs around Stiles and ground their hips together.  A pained noise emerged from behind them.

“Oh for the love of – bleach my brain please!”


	3. Blended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exorcising or destroying demons is nothing new to Dean Winchester. Sacrificing everything for pack and family is nothing new to Derek Hale. Taking on a Japanese trickster spirit Hellbent on causing chaos, strife and pain to save Stiles Stilinski, the soul that holds them together and makes them better men? *pfft* Please.

Dean Winchester stared at the ceiling tiles while his lover, Stiles, moved within him. He felt the slow-rising pleasure and bit his lower lip. Stiles chuckled and brushed his lips over Dean’s forehead.

“Relax, handsome … relax and enjoy the ride,” Stiles whispered softly.

Dean turned his head sideways when Stiles leaned in to kiss him. The younger man chuckled again then sighed.

“Difficult as always, Dean baby … it must be that desperately stubborn streak that Stiles loves so much. It amuses me … and pisses me off.”

“Glad to disappoint you,” Dean ground out.

Dean turned to look at the body currently inside him. Familiar as his own, Dean knew every freckle, every mole, every scar and dimple. He loved that body … loved touching it and watching it respond … loved its comforting weight against him at night – Dean loved Stiles so much it made him ache to think about it. Unfortunately, this was not Stiles. It was the right body but what resided within … what held the spirit he treasured hostage … _that_ was not his love. _That_ was a fucking Japanese trickster spirit.

 _not_ Stiles smiled down at him. Dean hated what the demon was doing to Stiles’ body. His lover’s body had always been slender but now it was downright thin. Dark smudges underlined the amber gaze which held a sort of manic energy. Dean shifted uncomfortably as _not_ Stiles held still within him, hard as a rock but not moving. The demon grinned.

“You should play with me, Dean. You really should,” _not_ Stiles whispered. “You should show me all the little things you do to make little Stiles scream your name … beg for more … offer himself to you oh-so-willingly.”

“Fuck. You.” Dean growled.

“Yes, that’s the _point_ , Dean baby,” _not_ Stiles said tiredly. “I want to fuck you … but it’s no fun when you won’t play along. When you try to resist. It just makes me want to do this …”

Dean arched off the mattress as a scream tore through his consciousness. Stiles.

_Stiles? Baby?!? Where are you … what the fuck is it doing to you?_

_Dean … Dean … don’t … don’t do what it says … don’t let it …_

Another scream ripped Dean’s breath out of his lungs. “No! No … stop! Please! _Stop hurting him!_ ”

The screams ended and _not_ Stiles leaned close, pressing their bodies together. “Ready to play, then?”

Dean looked up into the whiskey-colored eyes. His vision blurred with tears and he nodded stiffly. “Ok … just don’t hurt him … please …”

“Wouldn’t dream of it … humans are so fragile. Their spirits even more so … poor Stiles will break eventually. Shatter into a thousand little pieces and dissolve into smoke … and you’ll never put him back together again,” _not_ Stiles drew long fingers down Dean’s torso. “Unless I release him first, of course … let him find his home in Heaven or Hell or wherever it is that _gaijin_ go when they die … I can do that, you know.”

“Yeah? Been my experience that your kind don’t do anything for nothin’,” Dean said.

 _not_ Stiles chuckled in the soft, cold way Dean was beginning to loathe. It pressed chill lips to his chest and Dean shivered.

“So smart, hunter … smarter than your little _bakemono_ lover running around trying to figure out how to cast me aside without killing Stiles,” _not_ Stiles said silkily. “You’ve seen true darkness … you’ve walked in true darkness … humans who’ve done that always see this world more clearly.”

“Lucky me … now what do you want?” Dean said quietly.

“Why, all of you, Dean,” _not_ Stiles whispered. “Of course I can release Stiles and take this body … but what if you could stay together? I want you and your wolf to join with Stiles … and I want you all to let me in … protect me … let me call your hearts home.”

Dean blinked. “Wh-what? You want … us to _let_ you possess us?”

 _not_ Stiles nodded and slowly withdrew from Dean’s body. It rolled to one side, pressing against Dean with one leg over his thigh the way Stiles slept at night. Dean remained still as the demon flicked its tongue out to brush over his nipple. He swallowed hard.

“You’d have to get rid of this hateful _irezumi,_ ” the demon said darkly, fingertips dancing around Dean’s anti-possession tattoo. “But after that, I could come into to you all … your hearts would be mine … your bodies … your very souls.”

“You’re out of your ever-loving mind … you think we’re willingly going to let ourselves be damned?”

 _not_ Stiles smiled. “Oh not damned, Dean baby … just _borrowed_. I use your souls’ energy to create chaos … to fulfill my purpose … and you three get to join in a way you’ve never known before. Not even with this recognition of souls you have now do you truly understand what it would be to become one with each other. Feelings, thoughts, emotions … blended and combined into a new existence.”

Dean jerked away from _not_ Stiles. “Sounds pretty new-agey to me … gonna have to pass.”

 _not_ Stiles shook his head. “Short-sighted, Dean … but then you never were the long-game sort of player … that’s more Sam’s purview, isn’t it?”

Dean’s head snapped around. “You leave Sammy out of this … “

 _not_ Stiles laughed. “Leave him out? He’s already on the board, Dean … “

“You fucker …” Dean snarled.

“Give me what I want, Dean. Sammy stays safe. Derek’s little sister Cora stays safe. Stiles’ dad stays safe … what price would you pay to keep those you love safe?” _not_ Stiles’ breath ghosted over Dean’s ear. “Would it truly be so bad? You three are so hopelessly, pathetically in love with each other … this would simply take that one step further.”

“We’d lose ourselves …”

“In _each other_ , Dean … you trust them both with your life … “ _not_ Stiles nudged.

Dean slid out of the bed and stood, head down, hands clenched into fists. “You think you’re so fucking clever … none of us are stupid enough to think you’re offering us our heart’s desire. We know this is gonna come back to bite us in the ass somehow,” Dean turned and glared at _not_ Stiles. “But we also know we don’t have a choice … even your kind have to keep their deals. We do this … you leave our families alone. And know this –“ Dean pointed at the demon. “We _will_ figure out a way to stop you … to blow your sorry, smoky ass all the way back to whatever supernatural Japanese foxhole you crawled out of – trust me on that, fucker.”

 _not_ Stiles smiled and the madness in the amber eyes made Dean want to cry. He stiffened his jaw as the pale, slender body sauntered over to him and pressed itself to his body. Cool, dry hands brushed over his cock and it flared to life making him grunt in discomfort.

“Believe what you will, Dean baby … find your little wolfie shapeshifter and bring him here … you can both show me how desireable your bodies will be before I move in … and if you’re nice, I might let Stiles out to play.”

“I hate you,” Dean growled.

“Hmm, yes … yes you do … and I just _love_ that about you, Dean baby. Now give us a kiss.”


	4. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons. Why does it always have to be demons?

Dean Winchester looked up and his eyes flashed black for a split second. They returned to the regular hazel and he grinned. Stiles still got weak in the knees whenever Dean gave that perfect, crooked smile. Even knowing what Stiles did, now was no different.

“Boys! Glad you could make it!” Dean said cheerfully. He looked over at the waitress. “Bring out another round for me and my boys, darlin’!”

Dean leaned on his pool stick and watched his former lovers, Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, settle onto stools near the table. Neither man said anything until the beers were brought and passed around. Derek took a long swig and studied the label.

“Took us a while to find you, Dean,” the werewolf said.

Dean chuckled and made a shot. “Well, I _did_ tell you two to forget me and move on.”

“In a _text message_ ,” Stiles countered. “And you knew we couldn’t do that.”

Dean shrugged. “Your choice, boys. I’m not going back.”

Derek watched as Dean moved around the table, sighting his shots and sinking every single one. His mate had always been clever and skilled … a con-man who could outfox the Devil himself. Only he hadn’t … Dean had died and what stood before him wasn’t his lover.

“Oh, I’m still me, fur-face,” Dean said with another grin. “That’s what you two boy-scouts refuse to believe. I’m still Dean. Still the guy that can hear the thoughts that go through those squeaky-clean little brains of yours even if you’re pretty good at blocking most of them. I’m still the dude that knows how to make both of you scream my name.”

Derek growled as Dean walked up slowly while talking. The hazel eyes bored into his own green ones and Derek was hard-pressed not to silence the insolent mouth with a bruising kiss. Dean winked, knowing exactly what his proximity was doing to the wolf. Stiles colored darkly and jumped when Dean turned his sharp gaze on him.

“Why the blush, kiddo?” Dean smirked. “Why, not so long ago I remember a certain scrawny-ass kid who went on a killing spree sportin’ a Japanese trickster spirit. ‘Member how you got me and growly over here to agree to let you try us on for size for a while? Sexy times, gorgeous … sexy times!”

Stiles winced. “Whatever ...”

Dean took hold of Stiles chin and pressed their mouths together, his tongue demanding entrance. Stiles groaned and tried to pull away but his body responded. When Dean leaned back, his eyes were black. Derek was snarling softly, his eyes glowing blue. Stiles jerked away and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

Dean chuckled. “Now, regular Dean might take that personal, babe. Not me ... nah, see I'm just fine with you not wantin' me. Or _pretending_ you don't want me.”

Dean walked back over to the pool table and took a shot, sinking it easily. He looked up to see Derek sliding his hand to the back of Stiles' neck. The smug look Derek was beginning to hate slithered across his mate’s face.

“Yeah ... ain't so easy, is it boys?” Dean asked. “You could walk right out that door ... not even bat an eye. I wouldn't go after you ... I'd leave you be just like I promised. But I know you can't, can you?”

Derek growled. Stiles snorted. “You feel it too, tough guy.”

Dean nodded and racked another set up for himself. “I feel these two little mice chattering away in my head sometimes, if that's what you mean.” Dean looked over at them. “ _Is_ that what you mean, kiddos?”

Stiles stood. “Let's go, Derek. Sam was right ... this isn't our Dean.”

Derek looked at the younger man with a frown. “Stiles ...”

“Let's. Go.” Stiles said, staring directly at Dean.

Dean snorted. “You kids have fun out there!”

Derek followed Stiles outside the bar. He growled softly. “Stiles, what the hell – we can't --”

Stiles looked at him. “I know, Derek ... but I can't ... I _can't_ look at him while he’s being such an asshole. It hurts not having him with us, but I can't stand feeling whatever that _thing_ is in my head!”

Derek pulled Stiles to him and pressed a soft kiss to his hair. “I know, babe. It's getting harder to block him though ---”

Derek's voice broke off as his entire body seemed to burn. Stiles got the residual charge of the stun rod which turned him out like a light since it was calibrated for a werewolf. The man dancing around the parking lot chuckled.

“Twofer! Come on, wolfman … show me what you got,” the Hunter teased.

When Derek tried to push himself up, the rod came down between his shoulder blades leaving him writhing on the ground. He groaned.

 _Just ask, growly,_ Dean’s voice slid into Derek’s mind. _I_ _’_ _ll come help if you just ask._

Derek shook his head and managed to gain his feet but the man’s aim was true and the shock rod hit him square in the chest. He twitched helplessly on the ground.

 _Ouch, that_ _’_ _s gotta smart, big guy_ _…_ _come on_ _…_ _just ask,_ Dean sent.

Derek debated but the decision was taken from him the minute the man turned the rod on Stiles. The younger man woke with a scream and then fell silent. The Hunter chuckled. Derek was barely holding onto consciousness but he managed a pained roar. He couldn’t hear Stiles’ heart any longer. The Hunter toed the limp form with a snicker.

“Oops. Forgot humans don’t handle that kinda voltage very well.”

“No they don’t, asshole,” Dean snarled from behind the Hunter.

The man turned in shock as Dean disarmed him, and pressed the rod up under his chin, sending the full hit straight to the Hunter’s brain. He dropped the dead body without a second glance and turned his attention to Stiles.

Keying down the volts, Dean pressed the rod against his ex-lover’s chest and watched impassively as Stiles arched off the pavement. He did it again and Stiles suddenly sucked in a huge gulp of air before disintegrating into a rib-cracking cough. He glanced over at Derek, who was recovering from his own shocks.

 _With me or against me, boys_ _…_ _which is it gonna be?_ Dean sent to both of them.

Stiles and Derek shared a look before answering him in tandem.

_With you._

* * *

Dean groaned as Stiles’ mouth made its hot way down his side, pausing to lick at the join of his hip and torso. The sensitive skin there had always been a weak spot in bed for Dean. His cock twitched and darkened even farther from the dusky rose it was now. Stiles grinned and then moaned as Dean let his pleasure surge into the link they all shared.

Derek was busy trying to reacquaint himself with Dean’s mouth and the ex-Hunter was more than happy to let him. Sure, he’d availed himself of several willing bed-partners during his time away from the pair, but nothing was as satisfying as this, Dean had to admit. The link let them feel each other’s pleasure and needs. Dean no sooner thought how he wished Stiles’ slender hand would wrap around his cock then it was there, stroking gently. Derek’s desire to have Dean bite hard enough to bring blood had a response only a second later when Dean buried his teeth in the wolf’s chest.

While no longer the skinny kid he’d been when they’d first recognized one another, Stiles was still more slender than either of his lovers and it brought out a possessively tender side in them both. They pulled him up between them with Derek facing and Dean behind. Both men locked eyes over Stiles’ heated body and reached a consensus to drive him out of his young mind.

Demon or not, Dean took care of what was his … and, as proven in the parking lot, Derek and Stiles were _his_. No one else touched them and no one else got to make Stiles gasp and beg to be filled like this. No one else got to feel the kid’s orgasm build in his mind until the white-hot ecstasy blinded them all to everything except each other.

Unfortunately for Derek and Stiles, the climax dropped their guards completely. When it was done running its course, Derek and Stiles looked over at Dean. Their eyes were completely black as was Dean’s.

“Welcome back, boys,” Dean chuckled as his mind twisted into the darkness now filling his lovers.

Derek growled and Stiles rolled over onto his back. Dean mused while he and Derek spent another hour or so filling every place on Stiles that they could.

Sammy would be in for one hell of a surprise when he showed up to take Dean back to the bunker.


	5. Belief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My response to a certain rain-soaked conversation between estranged brothers because, well, it's Stiles and he deserved better.
> 
> Warnings: Thoughts of suicide and discussion of the aftermath for those left behind. Don't read if that triggers you.

They weren’t there when Stiles was attacked in the library. Dean and Derek hadn’t even been on the same continent as Stiles that lonely night. And their young mate was the most skilled of them in closing off the link they all shared. Dean had commented on it once but Derek’s logic had simply been to remind the hunter that their mate was still in high school. Did they _really_ want the usual teenage drama swimming round their heads? Granted, Stiles was anything but a normal teenager, but he _was_ prone to mental babbling. Dean had acquiesced and so neither of them felt the aftermath of Stiles’ confrontation with Donovan.

* * *

Stiles hid his emotions from his mates. They were both so very strong –physically and emotionally. He sat on his bed and stared at his shaking hands. Again. He was the weak link _again_. How could he stand it? How could he bear to meet their eyes and explain that he’d done something so … horrible? There wasn’t a trickster spirit to blame it on this time – there was only Stiles and his unerring ability to find trouble. Lying back on his bed, Stiles stared at the ceiling, blurring with unshed tears and hugged himself. The hoodie he wore to bed these days only faintly smelled of Derek. The pillow with Dean’s shirt was rapidly losing its scent as well.

A heart-stopping thought occurred to Stiles. What if his mates knew? What if he hadn’t been as clever as he thought? What if they’d learned what he’d done? He was tempted to reach out along the link … tempted to try and touch the minds of the two he loved so very much but he pulled back before he could give in to the urge. He threw up even more mental walls to ensure that he wouldn’t accidentally let anything slip. After all, Dean was anything but subtle. If he suspected Stiles was a murderer, he would have confronted his young mate. Derek was more the ‘watch from the shadows’ sort, but he would have backed Dean up. So for now, Stiles knew his mates were ignorant of his crime. He had time. Time to figure out what he was going to do. Time to learn how to be alone in his own head again. He held few delusions that once Dean and Derek knew what he’d done; they would find a way to release him from the three-way soul bond they shared. It was inevitable. Dean and Derek had both killed but Dean only took out supernatural beings threatening humans. Derek had killed for love and to protect others. Noble reasons. Noble men. Stiles, on the other hand, had a butcher’s list a mile long and apparently, _Nogitsune_ or not, he was still adding to the names. He would never be clean again. His hands were always going to be stained with the blood of innocents.

Stiles curled onto his side and sobbed. He felt so alone and confused. Memories floated through his mind, unbidden but not entirely unwanted -- memories of nights pressed between two men who made love to him like he was a precious thing; memories of two minds blending with his to create one focused mental voice without all the outside ‘noise’; memories of smiles that were full and open without reservation or ulterior motive – smiles that were for Stiles and no one else. Stiles let the sensations of those memories wash over him and eventually he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Dean yawned as they walked to Derek’s Toyota Cruiser after a long-ass flight home. Derek made a low grumble of agreement. He tossed his duffel bag in the back with Dean’s and wearily climbed behind the wheel. Leaning his head on the steering wheel, Derek groaned and handed the keys to Dean who took them with a snort.

“Where’s all that ‘werewolf constitution’, fur-face?”

Derek popped his neck as they traded places. “I think I left it in South America. I just want to climb into bed and sleep for a week.”

Dean nodded and started the vehicle. “I hear ya, brother. Great … starting to rain. Maybe Stiles can take a sick day tomorrow from school.”

Derek smiled out the passenger side window as the phantom sensation of his young mate pressed into the curve of his body floated over him from Dean. He chuckled.

“Really? You think _any_ of us will get sleep?”

Dean shrugged. “Can’t help it … he’s what we both need.”

Derek nodded. It was true. While he and Dean stretched the limits of energetic sex when away from Stiles, it was always better when the younger man was with them. His youth gave him stamina to keep up but more than that … Stiles was, as Dean had aptly phrased it, simply what they both needed. In all their attempts to understand the three-way connection they shared, one truth was obvious to Dean and Derek – nothing was complete unless Stiles was there. His enormous heart had taken them both into it without hesitation or regret and never mind all the darkness they brought with them. Stiles was _home, den, pack, family, love_ – he was everything good in the world all wrapped into one slightly hyperactive package. When the _Nogitsune_ had taken him away, both Dean and Derek had feared for their very sanity. They would have burned the world to find their young lover again.

Derek stretched uncomfortably and rolled the window down, letting in a spray of cold air and water. Dean cursed.

“What the hell, Derek?”

His werewolf mate shushed him with a sharp hand-gesture and a spike of confusion. Dean glanced over at the man who was dragging in large gulps of air, tracking something. When he turned back to Dean, Derek’s eyes were glowing luminous blue.

“It’s Stiles … something’s wrong – he took that road – it goes to Deaton’s clinic.”

Dean drove faster.

* * *

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened?” Scott asked.

Stiles stared down at the wrench, the rain washing into his eyes even as his heart pounded in his chest. Scott _knew_. He looked up.

“I couldn’t,” Stiles replied softly, shame flooding the words.

“You killed him?” Scott demanded. “You killed Donovan?”

Stiles bristled. “Look, he was going to kill my _dad_ … was I supposed to just _let_ him?”

Scott sighed. “You weren’t supposed to do _this_. None of us are!”

Stiles stared at his best-friend. His brother in all but blood. Eyes narrowed, Stiles felt a hard pang of defiance flood through him. He stood straighter.

“You think I had a _choice_?!”

Scott shook his head, his expression saying all that words couldn’t and then he spoke those words anyway. “There’s _always_ a choice.”

“Yeah, well I can’t do what you can, Scott!” Stiles snapped. “I _know_ you wouldn’t have done it. You probably would have just figured something out, right?”

Scott nodded, secure in his belief. “I would have tried.”

“Yeah, because you’re _Scott McCall_! You’re the ‘true alpha’!” Stiles declared. “Guess what? Not all of us can be true alphas! Some of us have to make mistakes! Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes! _Some of us are human!_ ”

Scott’s eyes reflected pain, but behind them Stiles could see the wolf, hackles raised at a pack-member who’d overstepped boundaries.

“You had to _kill_ him?” Scott asked again.

Stiles gaped in disbelief. How was he having this conversation with the one person he’d always thought would trust him come hell or high water? Long before Stiles had bonded with Derek and Dean, there had been Scott. His brother and best friend. His confidante.

“Scott … he was going to kill my _dad_!” Stiles repeated.

Scott shook his head. “The way that it happened … there’s a point where … it’s not self-defense anymore.”

Stiles blinked in confusion. “Scott, what are you even talking about? I didn’t have a choice, Scott!” He stared at the other teen and realized something that made his blood run cold. “You don’t even believe me do you?”

“I want to,” Scott replied softly.

Stiles shifted uneasily on his feet. “Ok, then, great – believe me then.” When the alpha didn’t meet his eyes, Stiles tried again, ignoring how small his voice sounded. “Scott, say you believe me. Say it. Say you believe me.”

Scott stared at the rain-washed sidewalk. “Stiles, we can’t kill people we’re trying to _save_!”

Stiles stepped into Scott’s space. “Say you believe me.”

When the werewolf flinched back, Stiles frowned in confusion but then realized – he was still holding the wrench in one hand. In that instant, Stiles realized his friend was _afraid_ of him. He looked up guiltily. Scott’s face had hardened. The expression was one Stiles knew well – Scott had made up his mind and it would take divine intervention from more than one deity to make him change it.

“Stiles, we can’t _kill_ people! Do _you_ believe _that_?”

Stiles knew his tears were mixing with the rain but he didn’t care. “What do I do about this? What do you want me to do … Scott … just tell me how to fix this … just – just tell me what to do!”

Scott looked into the night and for a minute Stiles thought he was staring at something, but then the alpha looked back at Stiles.

“Don’t worry about Malia or Lydia … we’ll find them. Maybe … maybe you should talk to your dad.”

With that, Scott turned away from Stiles and went back into the clinic. Stiles stared silently at the closed door thinking it was a perfect metaphor to the ending of a relationship that had filled so much of his life for so long. The loss was so great, Stiles felt like he could barely breathe. His heart was still beating but he didn’t know why. A vague image of his father’s spare service pistol flitted through his mind.

A low, warning growl came from the shadows behind his Jeep and Stiles whirled around, wrench held high. Before he could consciously identify the silhouette, Stiles felt a hand close over his bicep painfully hard. He was dragged to the passenger side of his Jeep and thrown inside. Derek jumped into the driver’s side.

_Don’t talk,_ Derek snarled in Stiles’ mind when the teen opened his mouth.

Stiles hunched down into the seat as Derek drove them to his loft. The Toyota was already there and Stiles could see the lights from the parking lot. Dean. He rode the freight elevator with his silent mate, wondering if his night was about to take an even worse turn. The familiar form of his hunter mate was leaning against Derek’s desk, legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest. Dean didn’t smile.

Derek shoved Stiles into the room and sat on the desk beside Dean. They both regarded the young man and Stiles felt hot tears sliding down his face again. He wiped angrily at them.

“I’m _sorry_! I didn’t have a choice! I didn’t –“

“Open up, kid,” Dean growled.

“Wha- what?”

“Let us in,” Derek seconded.

“No … you’ll –“

“ _No?_ ” Dean asked, eyebrows rising. “Did you just tell us _no?_ ”

“You won’t understand … you won’t believe me?”

“I’ll tell you what I don’t understand, Stiles,” Derek snarled. “I don’t understand how a kid so fucking smart could even _think_ about taking the easy way out!”

“Easy …? Yeah, well _fuck you_!” Stiles screamed, his voice breaking. “Fuck you, fuck everyone! No one believes me anyway, what _difference_ would it make? What –“

Derek was on him a breath later, gripping the struggling teen’s arms and lifting him off the ground. Stiles stared into the shifted visage and whimpered as the werewolf roared in his face.

“ _What difference would it make?! Are you fucking serious right now, Stiles?”_

Stiles whined in pain and Derek all but dropped him, his claws retracting quickly. Dean was there to catch the young man before he fell but his grip was no less punishing as he forced Stiles’ chin up to meet his eyes.

“You want to leave your dad like that? You want to kill him too? Because that’s what would happen, kid … he’d probably eat his own pistol because he finally failed to keep you safe. You want that? You want a one-way ticket to Hell? Let me clue you in – the pain doesn’t stop … it doesn’t end just because you checked out up here. It’s eternal and it’ll never end. Trust me, I know,” Dean said savagely. “And what about me and growly over here? Huh? We just supposed to mop up and carry on? Fight the good fight knowing we let the one … the one person we need more than _air_ just … just _die?_ ”

“You – I’m not –“ Stiles shook his head as his emotions finally overwhelmed him.

Dean sank to the floor with Stiles pressed against his chest. Sobs flooded out of Stiles, making his body shake. Derek whined softly and knelt behind his young mate, bracketing the boy with his body and letting his heat sink into all three of them. They both pressed soft kisses to the dark hair as Stiles wailed, all the tension and fear of the past few weeks bursting out of his slender body. The walls, so carefully maintained and fortified, dissipated as if they’d never been and the raw anguish speared through Dean and Derek. It wasn’t long before their own tears joined Stiles’.

Dean sent gently. _Baby boy … oh sweet baby boy … why did you hide from us …?_

Derek sent softly. _Cub … reckless and stubborn … how could you think we’d ever stop loving you …?_

Both men sent insistently. _We love you. We’ll always love you. WE BELIEVE YOU._

Stiles jerked when the synchronized thoughts of his mates filled him with persistent love and trust. He blinked swollen red eyes at them both, his brain trying to discredit what he’d felt and heard, but in a sending there was no way to lie. In their link there was only truth – undeniable honesty.

_…but I killed…_

Dean pressed a soft kiss to Stiles lips and urged the young man to open to him, which he did. The kiss deepened, pulling an unwilling groan from Stiles as his attention began to be usurped. Derek mouthed hot kisses against the long line of Stiles’ neck as the young man shuddered between them.

_…stop…we can’t…I’m…so wrong…you can’t…_

Derek stood with Stiles in his arms. Somehow the teen’s legs had wrapped around his torso. Dean led the way up the stairs and to their large bed. Stiles felt like he was sinking into hot, silken water that pulled all resistance out of his body. He let them undress him, he let them lay him out on the bed and he let them begin to touch and arouse him past the point of coherency. Try as he might, Stiles could not cling to the guilt, fear or shame that had filled his soul only hours before … he was too full of Dean … or Derek … or both of them … he could only feel heated caresses and words murmured tenderly against his ear. And while all these things were marvelous, spectacular and amazing, the memory he would forever cherish in his future dark nights of the soul were the unspoken feelings that hammered at his brain until he let them enter to erase whatever doubt and confusion had burrowed there and hatched into a monster devouring his very self.

_We believe you…you’re not alone…we’ll figure it out together…you’re everything to us…please don’t leave us…we love you. We love you. We love you._

Stiles drifted sleepily between Derek and Dean. He didn’t fear waking from a nightmare because he knew his mates would be there to bring him gently back to reality and to remind him that everything had a solution. And even if that solution wasn’t an enjoyable one – Stiles would not stand alone to face the consequences. He believed that his mates treasured him far more than he felt worthy of but he knew their love for him was true. He had lost his best friend perhaps and that would be a long time healing but Dean and Derek would help him. Before he dropped off to sleep, Stiles wondered idly about Theo. He shivered at the response from Dean and the echoing confirmation from Derek.

_Baby boy, that is one body that will never be found._

_In this world or any other._

Stiles decided he could live with that and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the idea of recognition from Richard and Wendy Pini's Elfquest 'verse along with the phrase about soul meeting soul.


End file.
